Hank McCoy had a Thing for Power
by K1ngQu1nn
Summary: Hank McCoy had a thing for power. Alex Summers had power. XMFC movie, Rated T just to be safe. Not sure if one-shot or chapter story yet.


**Chapter 1:**

Hank McCoy had a thing for power.

He didn't have much of his own and so every feat of what normal humans might consider magic had him nearly drooling with fascination. He had his acrobatics and his increased senses, but those weren't all that showy. What Erik could do with a metal structure or who Raven could form herself into was incredible by comparison to the simple things Hank was able to bring to the group of mutants.

Unfortunately for Hank, he didn't get shows of abilities that often as Raven was still trying desperately to fit in as a normal girl, spending her time working out in a back room of the mansion while the others trained their powers separately with the Professor. Erik was about as likely to satisfy Hank's love of mutations as he was to don a leotard and dance about the mansion for fun, so Hank never even bothered to ask.

The only one who was proud enough, or perhaps the correct word was stupid enough, to display their powers to anyone who wished it was Alex Summers. Originally the boy had been a recluse, not wanting anyone near him or talking to him, claiming that it pissed him off and he was likely to blast them into oblivion with his lack of control over the sheer destructive nature of his mutation. As he had come to control it a little better, he had started coming out to dinner with the group and letting others spend time with him, even if he was training. Hank had been one of the first allowed into the bunker Alex trained in, though it was mostly because the Professor had insisted that Alex needed live targets to put more urgency on him practicing his aiming.

At first, Hank had been scared. So scared, in fact, that he'd been shaking so much he was sure Alex was going to hit him instead because he just couldn't stand still. But after a few blasts of bright red energy from the censor he'd crafted for Alex's uniform, Hank became more confident in the mutant's control. While the Professor trained the others, namely Banshee and Erik, Hank spent most of his time coordinating with the telepath to construct new things to aide the mutants. The censor had to be perfected into a suit for Alex, Banshee needed wings that would easily fold and be secured if they were in a tight fix and though he'd once offered to make a cape for Erik, the metal manipulator had flat out rejected the idea of a costume.

At the moment, he was inside the bunker with Alex, alone for the second time since coming to this mansion. The Professor was busy with Raven, apparently some business with her back talking and Erik nearly crushing her with a metal weight. Either way, Hank wasn't involved and with nothing better to do, he began crafting the real censor he would later stitch or fasten somehow onto the suits he'd been designing for the crew. He wasn't sure yet if stitching with hold, but he would need to hold it somehow. Perhaps stitching it and then gluing it? It would have double the hold, or at least Hank hoped it would.

Alex lay on the floor to the bunker, legs crossed and hands behind his head. He had already burned down four mannequins and at Hank's request had taken a rest until Hank could find some more targets. They'd need something other than mannequins because those were getting expensive and though the Professor had said that it was no problem at all, Hank hated to rack up a bill when he could quite easily come up with cheaper solutions.

"You almost done, bozo?" Alex called from the floor.

Hank had initially been quite pleased that Alex had allowed him to just spend time in companionable silence, but every day this happened, he was reminded that Alex had little nicknames for everyone and his wasn't very kind.

"You're not going to be able to use this right away, Alex." Hank reminded Alex. "This has to go in a suit before you can make use of it."

"Yeah, but the faster you finish that, the quicker we can find new targets." Alex stated, his voice even but bored.

Hank was sorely tempted to tell Alex to go out and shoot some birds, but he knew that would only result in tragedy so he kept his mouth shut. Placing the censor on the fold out table he'd brought with him, Hank stood up and cleared his throat. Alex lifted his head from his hands to look curiously at the taller mutant and Hank said, "Just a sec." That was all the warning he gave before exiting the bunker and leaving Alex alone.

Hank made his way to the kitchen, knowing he could find some good ammo here. The Professor had two kitchens in this mansion, neither of which he ever really used. Or at least, was seen using. Hank had sensed the smell of bacon a few times and heard the Professor and Erik laughing in one of the kitchens before, but no one had actually ever seen any men cook food in these. Raven had prepared lunch once, Hank was sure of that. Regardless of who used what, Hank went to the less visited kitchen and selected an array of plates and bowls and a few knives. He would replace everything if someone scolded him for this, but without much hesitation, Hank drew a Sharpie from his lab coat pocket and proceeded to draw ugly faces on the plates and bowls.

Armed with these targets, Hank went back to the bunker, wordlessly setting up while Alex watched him with a careful eye. As Hank finished the first two plate locations, perched on stands he had fashioned when trying to get Alex to aim through hoops instead of at dolls, a burst of laughter came from Alex. Hank smiled slightly, pleased that his faces had done something and Alex managed to cough out a few words between his chuckles.

"Those...are amazing." Alex brushed a few tears from his eyes and stood up to position himself where Hank was likely to direct him later.

"Glad you like them. They're smaller targets so like the hoops, you'll have to concentrate your energy into smaller rays instead of just blasting away like a maniac." Hank explained, trying to sound professional like Charles did when he taught.

"Well, I could, but it wouldn't be very effective." Alex countered.

"Exactly, so why even try?" Hank turned to frown at Alex, who shrugged and shifted from foot to foot, preparing to summon up the energy.

"I don't like it when you tell me what to do, bozo." Alex said, as easily as if he were remarking upon the weather. "Don't take it personally, I don't like anyone telling me what to do."

As if that line made it better. But Hank did feel less insulted as Alex really did think everyone should let him do as he wished. Part of the thing about finding this guy in prison, Hank had thought.

"Whatever. Just aim." Hank brought the last stands over to his work table and searched around for something he could use for his final marks. These ones were a little for Hank's own amusement as well. A little surprise for Alex.

Alex did as he was told and Hank nearly dropped the few knives he still held onto as the jet of red energy lit up the room in a fantastic blaze. Hank managed to focus long enough to arrange the knives in X formation, sticking them in little bits of foam he attached to the stands. He moved about the room, setting up randomized targets away from his work table just as Alex focused a smaller ray at another plate. This one missed, but the whoosh still made Hank jump.

Finishing his displays, Hank had time to focus on Alex. The blonde haired boy was usually serious, but his face was much more defined and focused when he worked. His hands had curled themselves into fists at his side and he stood evenly on the ground as the whooshing began again while the energy circled in his body before being fired out through the prototype censor and successfully smashing through the ugly face of a plate.

If anyone's mutation fascinated Hank, it was definitely Alex's. Even with the others magnificent abilities, Alex never hid his if training was to be done. The sheer focus the boy had astounded Hank as the blonde appeared more likely to intentionally fire at his own kind just to get into a fight, but deep down it was apparent that Alex really didn't care about fights. Not to say he cared about friends in absence of his need for fighting, not at all. Alex was the pure embodiment of Not Caring. Friends, fights, and every other human interaction was simply an addition to Alex's life. Not a necessity. But when he trained, it was an entirely different story. He wanted to control this, that much was evident in the time he'd logged in this bunker, and letting Hank be here to see it was like letting someone peer in on your most intimate moments.

The Professor had pondered if Alex being in prison was to protect others from his power, and to Hank, this made sense as Alex wouldn't use his power if anyone was too close to him. Not unless it was the Professor himself and it was a serious training session. Only once had Charles asked Alex to fire at him and only once Alex had fired. Of course, Alex intentionally missed and the Professor never asked again.

Hank came back from his thoughts when Alex asked, "What next?" Hank's eyes scanned the room to see several broken plates and one just nearly grazed with the burn of passing energy. Tempted though he was to make Alex hit all of the plates like making a child eat all of their dinner before leaving the table, Hank was curious to see Alex's speed in his next test.

"I've set up targets around the room. What I want to test is how long it takes for the censor to react to continuous blasts or very quick succession blasts. Try to take out as many X's as you can in the shortest amount of time. There's only one area you shouldn't shoot and please, for the love of all that is holy, do not shoot there. It's my work table and I'll be standing there." Hank stared at Alex, hoping above all hope that he was good enough at aiming to do as Hank asked. The materials for Alex's censor were not cheap and it was not an easy item to create. And, of course, the materials to make another Hank didn't exist, unless someone here could reanimate his corpse and he was fairly certain no one could.

"If you say so." Alex said, sounding non-committal, much to Hank's concern. However, the same seriousness took over his face again and the fists were back at his sides.

Short bursts of red filled the room for about three minutes while Alex tried to hunt down all the targets and summon up and cut off the energy in a timely fashion. From what Hank could deduce, cowering under his table, was that the warm up time for the prototype censor was about four seconds. Alex could fire off four or five rings without the censor to focus the energy, but with the focus, each burst roughly equaled four or five rings. Thus, when the maximum energy output had been reached, the censor would need to cool off, which it did rapidly thanks to Hank's design, before firing again. Without the cool down, the censor would burn through the material of the suit and scorch Alex's skin, which would very obviously be a very bad thing.

"Not bad, bozo." Alex said, upon hearing Hank's deduction while the both of them cleaned up the bunker.

"Would you please stop calling me that?" Hank said, his voice heavy with his disdain for the nickname.

"I'll stop calling you that when you give me a better nickname." Alex raised an eyebrow while taking down the melted remains of a knife set.

"How about just Hank?" Hank asked, a little put off that everyone had leapt so heartily on this mutant nickname thing Raven had come up with. The only one who seemed to share his contempt for it was Erik.

"You're the only one who calls me Alex anymore. Everyone else uses Havok, why can't you just think up a name. Like Bigfoot or...Godzilla. You know? 'Cos your feet are big." Alex wasn't even sure if he'd meant that as an insult or not, but Hank certainly took it as one.

"Because I don't need a nickname. I was born Hank and I'd like to be called that, thanks very much. Why couldn't anyone come up with a better nickname for you? Oh right, it's because creating havoc and chaos is what you're best at." Hank knew he sounded petty and childish, but it was not fair that, just because his mutation wasn't as useful or as powerful as the others, he was made fun of.

Alex stopped plucking the knives from the foam (or more accurately, the foam with melted bits of knife in it from the rings on the stands) to send a glare Hank's way.

"Watch it, bozo, I was in prison for a good reason." Alex warned. More of an empty threat, but Hank didn't know that.

"Show me what you got, Havok." Hank retorted, the nickname practically dripping with contempt. His voice was calm though his body was beginning to shiver. He wasn't used to fights or confrontation and his whole being reacted in both excitement and fear.

Without meaning to, a surge of irritation flashed through Alex's mind and very quickly found purchase in his chest censor. Before he had time to metaphorically toss water over his flame, Alex released a burst of energy that whizzed past Hank, heat spreading through the taller boy's arm as the blaze came dangerously close. A scorch mark was visible on the wall behind Hank and neither one of them moved for a full thirty seconds.

"I'm sorry." Alex spoke first, his eyes conveying what the rest of him did not. He was being genuine, even Hank could see it as he searched Alex's expression for honesty, but his body did not move to help Hank or to check if he was alright. "I'm sorry."

"-fine." Hank lost his voice while trying to start his reply, the word he'd managed to get out nothing more than a pre-pubescent squeak. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "It's fine."

It took no more than five minutes for Hank to gather his stuff up from his table, neither boy speaking a word until Hank had exited the bunker and rushed up to his lab to try and stop shaking. Alex slapped a hand to his face, cursing at himself and his lack of control. This was exactly why he'd avoided being around people. He knew Hank hated the nickname but that last jibe at him being chaotic was just what set fires to his old schools and homes when he'd been teased as a kid. And now he'd nearly killed a friend.

Hank closed the door to his lab and dropped everything he was holding. The censor bounced off his shoe and skittered away under a more stable desk and Hank gazed at his shaking hands. He wasn't even sure what emotion filled him most at the moment, but he knew fear was in there. He had nearly been killed. Had Alex turned just a little more or the boy been just a little angrier...Hank nearly lost the strength in his legs at the thought. But another emotion had muddled the fear and made his heart thump wildly in his chest. He was excited. Not in a creepy way, like a voyeur in a window, but just excited.

The power Alex had exuded just now had been more real than the numerous other blasts Hank had witnessed. Never had he been so close before. He could always feel the heat from the bunker after a few shots at one or two mannequins, but the heat that was barely still present under the skin of his arm was so different. Every nerve seemed alive with energy within Hank and it was all he could do not to collapse on the floor and start giggling like a hysterical lunatic. Fear and excitement were never a safe mixture and he quickly staggered over to a desk chair and turned on the radio for something else to focus on.

Hank McCoy had a thing for power.

Alex Summers had power.


End file.
